In this thread you are the rockstar you always wanted to be but didn't become because you took that fucked up job and started studying philosophy in your spare time.

Some of you can REALLY sing, and will be able to use instrumental versions without embarrassing yourself. Others, like me, will sing over the songs, but loud enough to be heard clearly.

What i, personally, enjoy about singing is not along the lines of soliciting admiration in the way of 'listen to what a great singer I am,' (which I'm not) but rather 'did I get the voice right'. When I succeed, I feel like I've done a good caricature and to me that's pretty fuckin' funny. I did countless voice-overs at my failed forum though the links have expired. Everything from No Doubt to Otis Redding, and I killed every one of em.

plotline: iambiguous (biggy) receives a page at 5:46 in the morning from pop (promethean75), who warns him of envious objectivists who've been watching his rise to power and are conspiring to stop him.

iambiguous: Who the fuck is this? Paging me at 5:46In the morning, crack of dawn andNow I'm yawning, wipe the cold out my eyeSee who's this paging me and why?It's my nigga, Pop, from the barbershopTold me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plotOf niggas wanna stick me like flypaper, neighborSlow down love, please chill, drop the caper

promethean75: Remember them niggas from the hill up in BrownsvilleThat you rolled dice with, smoked blunts and got nice with?

promethean75: I didn't say them, they schooled me to some niggasThat you knew from back when, when you was clocking minor figuresNow they heard you're blowing up like nitroAnd they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slowSo, thank Fame for warning me 'cause now I'm warning youI got the MAC, nigga tell me what you gonna do

promethean75: They heard about the Rolex's and the LexusWith the Texas license plates you got from out of stateThey heard about the pounds you got down in GeorgetownAnd they heard you got half of Virginia locked downThey even heard about the crib you bought your moms out in FloridaThe Fifth Corridor

iambiguous: Call the coroner!There's gonna be a lot of slow singing and flower bringingIf my burglar alarm starts ringingWhat ya think all the guns is for?All-purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the doorAnd I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devourThe criminals trying to drop my decimalsDamn, niggas wanna stick me for my creamAnd it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seemIt's the ones that smoke blunts with ya, see your pictureNow they wanna grab they guns and come and get yaBet ya Biggie won't slipI got the Calico with the Black Talons loaded in the clipSo I can rip through the ligamentsPut the fuckers in a bad predicament, where all the foul niggas wentTouch my cheddar, feel my BerettaBuck! What I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers better duckI bring pain, bloodstains on what remainsOf his jacket, he had a gun he shoulda packed itCocked it, extra clips in my pocketSo I can reload and explode on you rassholeI fuck around and get hardcoreC-4 to your door, no beef no more niggaFeel the rough, scandalousThe more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerousI don't give a fuck about you or your weak crewWhat you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you?I'm not running, nigga I bust my gun andHold on, I hear somebody coming...

If peter piper pecked em, I betcha biggie bust emHe probably tried to fuck him, I told him not to trust himLyrically, I dust em, off like PledgeHit hard like sledge-hammers, bitch with that platinum grammerI am a diamond cluster hustlerQueen bitch, supreme bitchKill a nigga for my nigga by any means bitchMurder scene bitchClean bitch, disease free bitchCheck it, I write a rhyme, melt in your mouth like M&M'sRoll with the M.A.F.I.A. remember them?Tell em when I used to mess with gentlemenStraight up apostles, now strictly niggaz that jostleKill a nigga for the figure, how you figure?Your cheddar would be better, Beretta inside of BerettaNobody do it betterBet I wet cha like hurricanes and typhoonsGot buffoons eatin my pussy while I watch cartoonsSleep 'til noon, this rap Pam Grier's hereBaby drinkers beware, mostly Dolce she wearFrank kill niggaz lives for one point fiveWhile you struggle and strive we pick which Benz to driveThe M.A.F.I.A. you wanna be emMost of y'all niggaz can't eat without per diemI'm rich, I'ma stay that bitch

Uhh, who you lovin who you wanna be hugginRoll with niggaz that be thuggin, bugginIn the tunnel in Eso'sSippin espresso, Cappuchino wit NinoOn a mission for the lucci crenoI used to wear Moscino, but every bitch got itNow I rock colorful minks because my pockets stay knottedC-note after C-note, Frank boat hold fifteen plus the catererYou think you greater, uh

iambiguous (biggy): You niggaz got some audacityYou sold a million now you half of meGet off my dick, kick it bitch...

in loving memory of the grand masterthe man with the beats to cause a disasterThe man who’s overtop, guaranteed to rockFrom a positive source, it’s the Human Beat BoxWith a million watts of power coming out his moufMaking all the young ladies want to scream and shoutWith a thousand beats for every day of the weekSo come on Beat Box – play one for me

Backstage footage of impersonation practice. Working out the idiosyncrasies and voice nuances of zizek. Very difficult speech impediment to get right. You have to touch your tongue to the roof of your mouth behind your front teeth to produce it. Will be working on it for a while....

plotline: iambiguous (biggy) receives a page at 5:46 in the morning from pop (promethean75), who warns him of envious objectivists who've been watching his rise to power and are conspiring to stop him.

iambiguous: Who the fuck is this? Paging me at 5:46In the morning, crack of dawn andNow I'm yawning, wipe the cold out my eyeSee who's this paging me and why?It's my nigga, Pop, from the barbershopTold me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plotOf niggas wanna stick me like flypaper, neighborSlow down love, please chill, drop the caper

promethean75: Remember them niggas from the hill up in BrownsvilleThat you rolled dice with, smoked blunts and got nice with?

promethean75: I didn't say them, they schooled me to some niggasThat you knew from back when, when you was clocking minor figuresNow they heard you're blowing up like nitroAnd they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slowSo, thank Fame for warning me 'cause now I'm warning youI got the MAC, nigga tell me what you gonna do

promethean75: They heard about the Rolex's and the LexusWith the Texas license plates you got from out of stateThey heard about the pounds you got down in GeorgetownAnd they heard you got half of Virginia locked downThey even heard about the crib you bought your moms out in FloridaThe Fifth Corridor

iambiguous: Call the coroner!There's gonna be a lot of slow singing and flower bringingIf my burglar alarm starts ringingWhat ya think all the guns is for?All-purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the doorAnd I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devourThe criminals trying to drop my decimalsDamn, niggas wanna stick me for my creamAnd it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seemIt's the ones that smoke blunts with ya, see your pictureNow they wanna grab they guns and come and get yaBet ya Biggie won't slipI got the Calico with the Black Talons loaded in the clipSo I can rip through the ligamentsPut the fuckers in a bad predicament, where all the foul niggas wentTouch my cheddar, feel my BerettaBuck! What I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers better duckI bring pain, bloodstains on what remainsOf his jacket, he had a gun he shoulda packed itCocked it, extra clips in my pocketSo I can reload and explode on you rassholeI fuck around and get hardcoreC-4 to your door, no beef no more niggaFeel the rough, scandalousThe more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerousI don't give a fuck about you or your weak crewWhat you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you?I'm not running, nigga I bust my gun andHold on, I hear somebody coming...